


Persevere

by Ivyfics (ivyfics)



Series: Ghostfic [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 23:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyfics/pseuds/Ivyfics
Summary: Kuroo is dead, Bokuto is in the hospital and Kenma... well, Kenma is trying to hold it together. He's not doing so well, but he's trying.Snippets of life after Kuroo dies. Prequel-ish to current events in With me.





	Persevere

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there peeps, long time no see. These are tidbits of Bokuken's life when dealing with the whole Kuroo is dead aftermath. The first one was posted on Tumblr a while back but given recent events, I thought I'd make a safe place for it and those to come after here.

The repeating beep near his head keeps him from drifting off too far. He’s between here and there, wherever there is, and the sound keeps him  _ here  _ enough to know but  _ there _ enough to not feel. Not yet. Bleach, or sanitizer or whatever it is that gives hospital that trademark scent has moved-in indefinitely and has made a home in his nostrils. 

Kenma doesn’t know—that’s the entire deal with  _ indefinitely _ —if he’ll ever be able to smell anything else. It doesn’t seem like he should be able to, not after it’s taken over his life, not after it’s taken part of his life away, after— 

Not after. 

The possibility of living a life where he doesn’t feel it saturate his clothes (his skin, his hair, his tongue,) isn’t real. For a while, he drifts. His eyes close with the weight of exhaustion but he’s anchored tightly to the hand held in his. It’s dry and cold, bandaged, and Kenma has to be careful with the needles and tubes sticking out of it, but the mass of it against his palm keeps him sane. A field of lights dance behind his lids to the beat of  _ beep, beep, beep,  _ in and out, one heartbeat, two. 

_ Beep.   _

“Mhmm—”

_ Beep. _

“Mhn!”

_ Beep.  _

“Mnche—”

His hand jerks, but it’s not really his, and Bokuto thrashes against the tube climbing down his throat with more strength than his pale face shows. Kenma springs up, tripping over his numb feet to press the call button and stands there for the seconds it takes for a couple of nurses to dash in, completely useless.

He’s ushered out by someone, Kenma doesn’t pay attention who, doesn’t really care. He should have because Bokuto will care, later, but for now there’s nothing more in his head than the accelerated _ beep, beep, beep, beep _ , and the echo of Bokuto’s hand in his.  He’s too busy staring how Bokuto gets held down and still enough to pull the tube out, string of spit trailing after it, and how he coughs—his lips are chapped, and his too-long hair falls in his face, he coughs and the closest thing to happiness Kenma’s felt in a long time makes him sag with relief. It cuts the strings holding him up with a quick snip. 

Kenma stares and stares, unbelieving, until he hits a wall of cold and stops. 

He is in there, on a bed, surrounded by nurses and the doctor on call that just rushed in. He’s bruised, and he’s cut all over, and he’s not whole because none of them are anymore—but he’s here.    
He’s  _ here _ and Kuro is not and it takes Kenma less than two breaths to catch himself against the wall and sink his face into his knees. He breathes once. Again, and one more, and tries to think how he’s going to say it, how is he possibly going to look at Bokuto’s battered face and tell him that Kuro is  _ dead  _ and that Bokuto missed the funeral for the wide curve of almost three months; that Kenma is  _ here, _ and Kuro is  _ there,  _ wherever that is _ ,  _ and that Bokuto was lingering somewhere in-between with no destination for long enough to have everyone’s heart break three times over. 

In the end, he doesn’t have to say it. Bokuto looks at him when he’s cleared to come back in, stares at the empty doorway after him until it’s been long enough _ , too long,  _ and breaks. 

All Kenma can do is try to pick up the pieces.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me softly on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ivyfics)


End file.
